A Helpful Win
by kay kal
Summary: Jessica Culver reaches out to Windsor Horne Lockwood III for help. Luckily, Jessica reaches Win at a time when he is bored. The help she needs isn't for herself, but for her cousin Parker Graham, a journalist that has stumbled into information she wasn't meant to see. Win usually follows his best friend Myron Bolitar into these types of situations, but this time Win takes the lead.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He checked his messages and heard a voice he hadn't heard in years.

"Hi, Win. It's Jessica, Jessica Culver." Long pause. "Myron's Jessica."

Win smiled at that – as if he didn't know who Jessica Culver was. He'd know the name even if his best friend of twenty-plus years hadn't been head-over-heels in love with her for more than ten of those years. Jessica Culver was the extraordinarily sexy author of multiple New York Times' bestsellers. If she hadn't dated his best friend Win likely would have laid her years ago.

The message continued, "I know we haven't spoken in quite awhile, but I was hoping you'd be able to help me out, well, actually, help one of my friends." Pause. "Well, she's my cousin, actually. She needs the sort of help that only you could provide, although I guess maybe Myron could, but that's….uncomfortable. Anyway, I have seen you when you're in your zone and it's…well…it's what she needs."

Win's smile grew at the compliment.

"I apologize. I'm rambling. I would very much appreciate it if you could give me a call back."

Win deleted the message. He went to the other side of the hotel suite's living room and poured himself an obscenely priced cognac. The lights were dim. He sat in a plush leather club chair and crossed his legs. He took a sip of his drink and looked out into the room, seeing nothing as he thought about his best friend. He hadn't seen Myron in almost a year, the longest amount of time they had been apart since meeting in college. He'd spoken to him on the phone twice and sent a handful of emails to let his friend know he was still "kickin' it" (Myron liked it when Win used the modern slang).

He missed his friend.

Using connections at his disposal, Win had kept tabs on Myron and his other few close friends. He knew his friends were okay and no one was in any trouble they couldn't handle without him.

Win took another sip of his drink. He would never admit it to anyone, hell, he could hardly admit it to himself – he not only missed his old friend but he missed his whole life. He missed his favorite golf clubs – Merion and Pine Valley. He missed his apartment in the famed Dakota in Upper Manhattan. He missed his Jag. Lately he'd gotten around in a chauffeured limousine with very darkly tented windows, but he preferred being the one in control.

Win did not regret the actions he'd taken that put him into hiding. What he'd done was necessary. If he hadn't taken the steps he'd taken then Myron would surely be dead. Win took the last sip of his drink and set down the empty glass. He stood and went to a drawer in a table across the room. He retrieved one of his untraceable cell phones and dialed Jessica's number.

As the phone next to his ear began ringing Jessica's number, he powered off the cell phone Jessica had called. Best to leave his "real" unlisted phone off even if he'd had the GPS capabilities scrambled so that the phone couldn't be used to pinpoint his location.

Despite the late hour Jessica picked up on the second ring.

"I hope it isn't too late. I wanted to return your call as soon as possible."

He heard her sigh away the weight on her shoulders. "Oh, Win. Thank you so much for calling me back."

"Your message piqued my interest."

"How much do you want me to get into now?"

"Who is your cousin?"

"Parker Graham."

Win thought a moment. "Why is the name familiar?"

"She is a journalist. You may have seen her work in the New York Times or other publications. She has also been on news programs."

Silence.

"Win?"

"Why does she need my help?"

"I want to clarify. _I_ think she needs your help. _She_ doesn't think she needs help, or at least she won't admit it."

Silence.

_Damn. Win would not make this easy,_ Jessica thought to herself.

"She was doing journalistic research and happened across, how do I put it….delicate information."

"She put her nose where it should not have been."

"I wouldn't say that."

"What would you say, Jessica?"

"I would say she was doing her job. She wasn't looking for what she found, but now that she's found it she can't erase it."

"But those that want to keep the information hidden can erase her."

Win heard a sob come from the other end of the phone. "I feel responsible. I told her to pursue the lead, that it would be great for her career."

"Your cousin's actions are her own." Win paused. "She is certain that those that want to keep the information secret know she has it?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Her apartment was ransacked a week ago. They went through all of her work-related files and her computer hard drives. She moved out after that and has been going between hotels in the city. Yesterday she noticed someone following her and I know how that sounds, but she is not the paranoid type."

"Did she lose her pursuant?"

"Yes."

"She's sure?"

"I think so. Yes."

"Where is your cousin now?"

"The International Hotel on Columbus Circle. She's listed under the name Selina Kyle."

The Batman reference drew a grin on Win's face. "Really?"

Jessica heard the smile in his voice and understood. "Yes, really."

"Interesting." Still grinning.

"Can you help her?"

"Of course I _can._"

"_Will_ you help her?"

"Do you know the details of what she found?"

"No, she said she did not want to endanger me, too."

"But you're certain it's put her in danger?"

"Well, someone isn't happy with her, Win!"

Silence.

"When she told me she was being followed I knew she needed some sort of help or protection and I could think of no one else but you."

Win's tone was flat. "Gee. I'm flattered."

"Please, Win. I just want to know that she's safe. I want to know that she won't end up like my sister or my father."

"I will call you back."

* * *

Later...

"A friend of mine is coming to see you this evening."

Parker sighed. "Who is coming to see me, Jessica?"

"Someone that will keep you safe."

Parker held back a slew of four letter words. "I didn't ask for help, Jessica."

"You never do."

"I can handle it myself."

"I don't think you can."

"How would you know what I can and cannot handle?"

Jessica's voice was suddenly soft, "I know."

Parker sighed.

"Please, Parker. Just meet with him. Let him hang around for as long as he wants."

"For as long as _he_ wants? What about what _I _want? What if I don't want someone following me around?"

"He won't be following you around. And chances are he won't hang around long."

"Then why bother at all?"

"Because he can help fix this. It's what he does."

"Fantastic. Did it ever occur to you that I can fix this on my own?"

It was Jessica's turn to sigh. "Would you please stop being so damn obstinate?"

Parker's tone softened, "You're not responsible for me, Jess."

Pause.

"He will most likely be by this evening, but I have no idea when. I have given him your cell number and the name you're using for your reservation. He will find you when he's ready to meet."

"How will I know it's him?"

"He's gorgeous."


	2. Chapter 2

Win placed a few phone calls to associates during his ride to the hotel on Columbus Circle, many of which he hadn't spoken to or heard from in months. That wasn't unusual though. People would reach out only when they needed something or had something to offer. There was never a call for friendly chit-chat. Win detested chit-chat.

The limo dropped him off in the hotel's cavernous underground garage, a more discreet entrance than the one above. The garage was used only by valets and hotel guests that wished to keep their privacy and had the power (aka money) to do so. Win's driver opened the car door for him and the bellman held open the hotel's door for him. It wasn't often that Win had to open a door for himself if he didn't want to.

While the hotel's upstairs main lobby was classy, upscale and beautiful, the hotel's downstairs lobby was even more so. Because it was used by only the most prestigious guests, utmost attention had been given to the smaller underground lobby's decor. A hotel representative met Win halfway across the lobby's sparkling white granite floor.

"Good evening, Mr. Lockwood. May I take your bag for you?"

"Thank you, no, I can handle it."

"Here is the key you requested. The room number is 3118. You can use either of the two elevators at the end of that hall." The man gestured down a hallway dimly illuminated by wall sconces.

"I would also like a bottle of cognac Arcana brought to the room."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Please keep Ms. Kyle's reservation open until I notify you of a departure date. And, if anyone requests her room, she is not a current guest. Her presence here, as well as mine, is to remain undisclosed."

Win handed the man three crisp bills. Without looking at them, the man slid the bills into his inside jacket pocket and nodded. Win turned and made his way down the hall to the elevators.

* * *

Parker was not a patient person. It had been more than two hours since Jessica's call and evening had turned into "Parker's bedtime". She lounged on the sofa in the living room of the two-room hotel suite watching one of her favorite Twilight Zone episodes – "The After Hours". Despite the possibility of a visitor, Parker had not changed out of her comfortable black nylon jogging pants and grey short-sleeved tee shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a high, messy ponytail and the majority of the day's make-up had rubbed off. She didn't care. She was in no mood to entertain a visitor, even if he was "gorgeous". She had more important things to worry about than her appearance – sleep, for instance.

She glanced at the wall clock – 12:46.

"I am going to bed when this is over," she declared aloud to herself as she pulled a blanket up to her chin.

* * *

Win stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the 31st floor. As the doors closed shut his cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out just in time to catch the caller ID before his service was lost in the elevator shaft.

The slightest hint of annoyance flashed across his face.

He let the elevator ascend to the 31st floor and then he hit the button to return to the lobby he had just vacated. When he re-entered the dimly lit hallway the man he was greeted by earlier approached again.

"Mr. Lockwood?"

"I need access to a private lounge."

"Of course, right this way."

Win followed the man down a second hallway that lead off the circular lobby. There were nondescript wooden doors on both sides of the corridor. The man stopped in front of a door halfway down the hall, pushed it open and gestured for Win to enter ahead of him.

The room was a plush, warm study. A large, cherry wood desk took up residence in one corner, a chest-high bookshelf took up an entire wall, and a small portable bar stood on the wall across from the bookshelf. In the middle of the room, two leather couches were positioned facing each other with a large marble coffee table between them. Two club chairs were stationed in separate corners of the room, each with a reading light casting a soft glow above them.

"Does this meet your needs?"

"Yes. Please send someone here with the cognac I requested."

"Right away, Mr. Lockwood. Will you be in need of anything else?"

"Privacy."

The man quickly exited the room. Win sat at the desk and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He then unzipped his overnight bag and pulled out two additional cell phones. He placed all three on the desk and made sure all three were powered on. He found a notepad and pen in one of the desk drawers.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened and a man that could have passed as Alfred Pennyworth's brother entered the room with a tray containing one glass and the bottle of cognac Win had requested.

"Would you like me to pour for you, sir?" The man asked as he set the tray down on the bar.

"Yes, please."

A moment later a coaster appeared on the desk in front of Win followed by a snifter of cognac.

"That will be all." Win waved the man away with a flick of his wrist.

When the door clicked shut Win checked the message on the first phone. He made a few quick notes and then deleted the message. He dialed the number that had left the message.

When the man answered, Win simply said, "Tell me."

Win remained quiet for a few moments, then said, "Let me know if anything changes," and ended the call.

He picked up one of the other phones and dialed. On the second ring a man answered, obviously half asleep.

"Hart, this is Win Lockwood."

The man was suddenly wide awake. "Win! What can I do for you?"

"I need information from a case file."

"Do you have the file number?"

"No. I have the subject. Parker Graham."

On the other end of the phone there was the sound of a drawer opening and a commotion as something fell to the floor. "Parker Graham?"

"Yes."

"How soon do you need this?"

"I will call you back in," Win checked his Vacheron Constantin wristwatch, "twelve hours." Win ended the call.

Win checked the voicemail on the third phone and heard the voice of his assistant, Mee.

"Mr. Lockwood, Mr. Price called for you. He did not leave a message. He seemed agitated."

Win deleted the message and called Mee back. Despite the late hour, she picked up on the first ring just as a good assistant should.

"Mee, call Mr. Price in the morning. Give him this number. I will be available here for the next twenty-four hours." Win ended the call and, after turning each of them off he placed all three phones into his bag. He swallowed the last of his cognac and made his way back to the elevators. When he passed the eager-to-please front desk agent he requested that his bottle of Arcana be brought up to room 3118 tomorrow afternoon.

Win stepped into the elevator. This time his cell phone did not distract him during his ascent to the 31st floor.


	3. Chapter 3

A knock on the door jolted Parker awake. She wasn't sure how long she had been dozing on the couch, but the previous Twilight Zone episode had been replaced by another of her favorites – To Serve Man – and an extra-large alien was on the screen speaking to the United Nations. Parker felt drool drying on her cheek.

She heard another knock on the door, this one slightly louder than the first.

Parker groaned and pulled herself off the couch. She rubbed the dried drool off her cheek as she trudged to the door. She disengaged the various locks and swung the door open to see an undeniably perfect specimen of a man standing in the hall.

Parker frowned. Damn Jessica. She hadn't been exaggerating in that over-the-top fictional author way of hers. He was in fact gorgeous.

The two stood looking at each other – Parker frowning, Win calm and at ease, his face a placid pool.

"You really should ask who it is before opening the door, especially when someone may be out to kill you."

Parker's frown intensified and she considered slamming the door in his perfect face.

"I'm not in the mood."

They stared at each other in silence a moment longer, then Parker turned to head back into the suite, leaving the door open behind her. She heard him follow her in and close and lock the door.

Parker went into the bathroom that connected to her bedroom to freshen up. When she caught her reflection in the mirror she almost laughed. Her ponytail had loosened and strands of hair stuck out chaotically on her head. She had an indentation across her cheek from the couch cushion she had rested her cheek against.

"Nice, Parker. Real nice," she said to her reflection as she shook her hair out of the ponytail and ran a brush through it. Unfortunately there was nothing she could do about the crease on her cheek. She flipped off the light and made her way back into the suite's living room.

The man was sitting on one end of the couch, legs crossed, his hands folded in his lap, watching the Twilight Zone episode she had left on. A man and a woman were on the screen discussing a book given to them by the visiting aliens.

He pointed at the television. "This is a good one."

"I agree. It's on my top 5."

"The other four are?"

Parker sat in a chair at the other end of the couch, watching him closely. His eyes did not leave the television screen, but she still felt as though he were examining her.

"Top two – Time Enough at Last and A Stop at Willoughby. The two after that – The After Hours and The Obsolete Man."

"Fan of Burgess Meredith?"

"Yes. He was also my favorite Batman villain."

Now Win turned his gaze to her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, an eyebrow raised. He said nothing.

Parker held his gaze, leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "I already know that your favorite Batman villain is Catwoman."

He laughed and asked, "How do you know that?"

"You're a man."

"You will receive no denial from me," his smile now full-fledged. "Name the best actresses to play her, in order."

"Including film?"

"Yes."

"Starting at the top – Julie Newmar."

His smile remained and he nodded in agreement.

"Second would be…"

He raised a hand and cut her off. "No need to go on."

"Why?"

"After Julie Newmar, does it really matter?"

Parker rolled her eyes.

He turned his attention back to the television and they watched the last ten minutes of the episode in a not-uncomfortable silence. When the final credits had ended and one of those reality Ghostbusters shows started, Win reached for the remote and flicked off the picture.

He leaned back into the couch, his legs still crossed, his hands clasped back together in his lap. He looked as comfortable as if he owned the place. His face gave away nothing and he continued staring forward in the direction of the now black television.

"What did Jessica tell you about me?" he asked.

"Very little." Parker decided he did not need to know that Jessica had given her forewarning about his good looks. "She only told me to expect you. She didn't even give me your name."

"Win."

"Your name is Win?" Parker smirked.

Win said nothing and continued staring forward.

"As in the opposite of lose?"

He liked that and turned to grin at her.

"Is Win short for something?"

He did not lose the grin when he said, "There is nothing short about me, sweetheart."

She couldn't help but laugh. She had, after all, set him up perfectly for that one.

"It is short for Windsor."

"Like the Duke?"

He tilted his head to the side in thought. "Or the castle."

"So, you are the Duke that never loses?"

"That could be my Indian name, you know, like Dances with Wolves."

"Yeah, or something." She gave him a look. "What is your full name?"

"Windsor Horne Lockwood the third."

"What a mouthful."

"I am indeed." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Can't help yourself, can you?"

"Why wouldn't I take advantage when you've set me up so nicely?"

She went to the mini bar and opened a bottle of water. Leaning back against the counter she took a sip and asked, "What's the plan?"

Win steepled his fingers and bounced the steeple against his lips.

"I don't have a plan just yet. I have put some feelers out to connections of mine to see what you are really dealing with."

"Shouldn't you just ask me what I'm dealing with?"

He dropped his hands back into his lap. "Do you know what you're dealing with?"

"I'm dealing with severely pissed off well-connected people."

"I am well-connected."

"And that's going to help me?"

"Yes."

"Why? Why did you say yes when Jessica asked you to help a complete stranger?"

"She meant a great deal to my friend for a very long time."

"So, you're doing your friend a favor?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly, no. I am doing this out of curiosity. And to relieve boredom."

Parker was incredulous. "You've come here to help me because you're bored?"

He shrugged, unfazed by the look she gave him.

Parker turned to set her water bottle back down on the counter, then slowly turned back to face the room, her eyes on the floor. He noticed her breathing had become shallow and she was chewing on her bottom lip.

"Problem?"

Her gaze remained fixed on the carpet. She shook her head slowly. "No."

She raised her head to look at him. Something akin to fear played in her eyes.

He said nothing.

Her voice was quiet, "I'm going to bed. I assume you'll be able to look after yourself."

He watched her walk to the bedroom, her gait stiff as though she was bracing herself for an attack from behind. Before she could close the door he said, "I am very good at this sort of thing."

She turned to look at him, unsure of what to say.

He continued, "My friend and I have a habit of doing this sort of thing."

"And what sort of thing would that be?"

"Saving people. My friend is probably a bit better at it than I."

"Then why didn't Jessica call your friend?"

"I am pretty certain Jessica hasn't spoken to Myron since she married."

"Myron? You're Myron Bolitar's friend?"

"I hate stating the obvious, but I take it you know him."

"I met him a few times when they were dating. I know my cousin is hot and all, but I always thought Myron could do better."

Win raised an eyebrow.

"Jessica and I are not close."

"And yet she is concerned about your well-being."

"Only out of guilt."

"If I was Dr. Phil I would ask you to continue, but I don't really care to hear about your family drama."

Parker crossed her arms over her chest. "Good, because I don't much care to talk about it."

They stared at each other, Parker frowning again, Win still completely at ease.

"I'll be okay without you."

"I am sure you will."

"Yet you're going to stay?"

"Yes."

"Why? Oh wait." She snapped her fingers. "That's right. Because you're bored."

"That is correct."

Parker felt like throwing something at him. Instead she clinched her hands into fists at her side.

"You're awfully cranky. Is it past your bedtime?" Win asked with a lilt in his voice.

Parker turned and slammed the bedroom door shut behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

FBI Agent Diederik Hart's frown was illuminated by the computer screen in front of him. After receiving Win's call, Hart had decided to get the task over with and shuffled half-asleep into his home office, clad in only his blue and white striped pajama bottoms. The house was dark and nested in the deep silence of early morning.

Hart reached for a pen and hastily jotted down a few notes. His index finger banged down on a few keys and the information on the screen disappeared while a new screen loaded.

SUBJECT NOT VALID

Hart glanced down at his notepad making sure he had the right name. Win had said "Parker Graham". Hart typed the name in again. The screen took its time loading, but the same message appeared: SUBJECT NOT VALID.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Hart chewed on the cap of his pen. Win would not have been mistaken. If Win called him in need of information on a subject then the subject existed. It certainly wouldn't be "not valid."

Unless.

"Damn." Hart poked at the keyboard with both index fingers and typed in the address for a different database.

When the new database loaded he typed "Parker Graham" into the search box.

The screen loaded.

Hart scanned the information and then quickly hit the print button. As his printer whirred to life he started reading again from the top, this time very slowly, making sure not to miss a single word.

After reading the page top to bottom three times, Hart leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his chin, considering what the hell it meant. Deep in thought, Hart nearly fell out of his chair when the sound of his desk phone ringing cut through the dark silence like a fog horn. He glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was blank. Not 'Unavailable'. Just blank. A chill ran up his spine. He did not move. After the third ring the phone went silent. Hart had no automatic voice mail to pick up unanswered incoming calls. That meant whoever was calling had hung up after just three rings.

Hart stared at the phone, his mouth hanging half open, expecting it to ring again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement on his monitor. He turned to see the webpage about Parker Graham replaced by a 404 error page. An invisible hand controlled the mouse cursor, moved the little white arrow to the X on his browser window and closed it.

The agent's nerve endings jolted when his desk phone's shrill ring broke through the silence again. The same blank screen appeared on the caller ID. Again, it rang just three times and stopped.

Hart did not wait for the ringing to begin again. He pulled open a desk drawer and took out a revolver. He checked the chambers to make sure the gun was fully loaded then set it on top of his desk.

Without turning on a single light Hart went into his bedroom and fumbled into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Not bothering with folding, he shoved a few items into an overnight bag, including two additional handguns and a taser. Swinging his arms through a shoulder holster, he made his way back to his office. As he was securing the gun from his desk into the holster he watched the monitor on his laptop. The mouse was still moving of its own free will and began deleting essential operating files. The laptop was committing suicide.

Hart grabbed the papers off his printer. With the overnight bag on his shoulder and the revolver tucked securely against the small of his back under a hooded sweat jacket, Agent Hart grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter and got into his car. As he backed out of the driveway he was hit with a sudden pang of melancholy. He had grown rather fond of this house, especially after all of the backbreaking improvements he'd made to it himself. But he couldn't allow the hope of returning here enter his mind. Right now the focus needed to be on getting away from here.

As he turned out of his subdivision he glanced in the rear view mirror, sure he had seen movement behind him. When the overhead streetlights did not illuminate another car he let out the breath he had been holding. He kept his eyes on both the road in front of him and the road behind him as he made his way out of town.

Win Lockwood was not someone you wanted to say no to, but Hart wished he hadn't agreed to this request.

* * *

Parker stared up at the ceiling in the dark, clutching a pillow to her chest. The dream was already fading, but its effects lingered. Adrenalin coursed through her bloodstream. Her heart was pounding and her respiration was shallow and quick. Beads of sweat dotted her brow.

She focused on her breath and tried to calm down.

Despite her nonchalant attitude towards her current predicament she was scared and her fear was creating dark, twisted dreams where unseen men pursued her, and no matter how hard she ran they always got to her. She would feel their thick, calloused hands on her perspiration-dampened skin as they yanked off her clothing and pulled her to the ground. Rocks cut deep into her back when the men flipped her over. And when she would look up to see who was assaulting her, there was only a dark, infinite blackness where a face should be. She'd open her mouth to cry out for help, but no sound would issue from her throat. She was as silent as the apparition in The Scream.

A small, very foolish part of her had hoped that having company in the other room would stop the nightmare from visiting her.

Still clutching the pillow to her chest, Parker rolled to her side and watched the minutes tick by on the alarm clock's digital display. She kept sleep at bay until the sun began its ascent over the horizon.


End file.
